I Need Some Sleep
by heart-of-honey
Summary: After the fall of Thesia, and failing to retrieve the all important information on the catalyst, Shepard is really starting to feel the pressure. T for language.


_I need some sleep; it can't go on like this_

Her tongue felt heavy, useless in her mouth as she stared at the hologram of the Asari councilor. Three years ago, the very same woman had declared Shepard a spectre, and now …

"What was the situation on Thesia?" the councilor asked, the hologram of her lifting her head from her hand to stare directly at the commander. Shepard met her gaze, her heart thundering in her ears. This made her feel more stressed than being attacked by reapers. At least you could make husks and marauders go away with a few shots from your rifle. The Asari councilor wasn't going away. Inhaling deeply to steady herself, Shepard spoke but her voice did not feel her own.

"Deteriorating fast…the reapers are there in strength," she managed to say the words without sounding too strained. The councilor looked down, and bit her lip in a strangely vulnerable moment. Even centuries old matriarchs couldn't steel themselves against the news of the Asari home world going up in smoke.

"Then you'll excuse me. There are … preparations to make … continuity of civilization to consider…I never thought this day would come." the councilor bowed her head.

"None of us did, I'm…" Shepard hesitated as the hologram vanished, "…Sorry."

The next few hours were a blur. Shepard barely remembered the conversation part of the team had in the war room. All she remembered was anger – no, rage. Blind rage. Why could none of them see this was her fault? Earth, Palivan, Tuchunka, Rannoch, and now Thesia – the reapers had come to every single one and Shepard had been helpless to do anything but stand by and watch. Sure they'd killed a couple of reapers, but what good had that done? Killing Sovereign in the battle of the citadel had taken the entire Citadel defense fleet, and had cost the Alliance nearly a quarter of their ships. And then there was the Crucible – no one even knew what the hell it did and they were still building it in earnest, everyone desperate this might be the key. Even Javik, the Prothean cryogenically preserved from his own cycle and recovered on Eden Prime, couldn't tell them the answers to its mystery.

As usual after a mission, Shepard wandered through the ship, checking everyone was okay. She didn't feel like talking to anyone much though, but she was happy to poke her head in doors and grunt pleasantries at people as she walked by. When she entered Liara's office, she was surprised to find the Asari wasn't there. Her holographic assistant, Glyph, floated towards her,

"Dr T'Soni has gone to speak with the prothean, Comander," the hologram's cheerful voice informed her. Nodding politely, Shepard left the room once more, not even bothering to notice how untidy it had recently become. It seemed Liara's space had become even more chaotic with each passing day; supposedly as her own thoughts became more and more confused.

Going down to engineering, Shepard walked in on Javik and Liara arguing about Prothean's meddling in asari development. Shepard's head throbbed, wanting so badly to scream at them to both shut the hell up and get over it. But instead she calmly dissipated the argument. When Liara left, Javik looked at Shepard steadily.

"You are in need of rest, Commander," the alien said, his accent thick. Shepard shrugged and rubbed her neck,

"It's been a long day, I'm fine. Thanks again for you know. Backing down. I know you could have carried on if you wanted to. Thanks for helping us," she said, but the Prothean had already turned his back.

"Like I said, we need her," he reiterated, studying a stream of data on the crucible. He then glanced over his shoulder, "And we also need you, Shepard."

_Everyone says I'm getting down too low_

After that, Shepard rattled around the ship for days, unable to sleep. Everywhere had people in it. Questions she had no answers to, friendly smiles and encouragements that made her want to spit and curse. In the end she found her way going down to engineering, overlooking the ships drive core, the steady bass thrum pulsing in time to the growing headache in her skull. Even there was not alone enough though, the usually smooth Scottish lilts of Kennith Donnolley's voice grating her.

At long last, Shepard found her way down under the engineering deck to where her old teammate Jack had made her lair. It seemed a lifetime ago now that they had sat here and talked, joking about being pirate queens and stuffing pompoms up Miranda Lawson's ass.

"Oh… Miranda," Shepard murmured, staring at her feet, remembering. She had taken Miranda and Garrus into the very heart of the collector base to face the human reaper larvae. She'd never forget the way Miranda dealt her final blow to the Illusive man, although she now wondered at the time if that was courage brought on by the thought of imminent death. She now wasn't so sure. Shepard paced the room, the low hum of the ship's machinery soothing her. Her mind was crowded endlessly with the thought of those she'd lost – Ashley, Miranda, Thane, Mordin, even kind Navigator Presley flitted through her mind – Each one had died for noble causes, but she still shuddered with grief at the thought of them. Their last moments were hers to see, and she lived them every night. Even the little boy she'd seen on her last few seconds on Earth haunted her. She sat in a corner and hugged her knees feeling like a little girl again, hiding in the guts of whatever ships her parents were serving on after she'd been scolded. Shepard was afraid – even more afraid than the Skyllian Blitz, when she had held off what seemed like a battalion of batarians singlehandedly until reinforcements arrived. Now that just seemed child's play to her. Closing her eyes, the fire of a thousand worlds burning flashed inside her mind – the view of Palaven from Menae, Earth as the Normandy retreated, Thessia as the shuttle came in to land. Shaking her head, she wanted to scream or hit something.

"This is not my fault!" she shouted at a coolant pipe, standing up again and balling her fists. Her blood ran hot in her veins, her temple throbbing.

"It's their fault! They didn't fucking listen to me!" she shouted again, punching a nearby pipe. Her hand throbbed in pain but she didn't care. Tears began to prickle hotly in her eyes.

"If someone had just fucking listened to me for once none of this would have happened!" she yelled at the ceiling, wanting to tear out her hair but instead she screamed. She collapsed down on the floor again, exhausted and deflated now the anger had flooded out of her.

Shepard didn't know how long she sat there. She felt horrifically tired but she dared not return to her cabin. People would be able to find her there. No, she liked it here. It was quiet, no through traffic. Maybe Jack had the right idea.

"Maybe I should have gone pirate," Shepard mumbled to herself. After that she drifted in and out of what must have been sleep, because the pipes and bulkheads were interspersed with trees, ghostly figures whispered and the reaper's awful, ungodly sound blasted through her mind, all mixed with the steady thrum of the Normandy's drive core.

The next thing the commander knew was being lifted into the air by rough, sinewy arms.

"C'mon Shepard, let's get you somewhere more comfortable," a gravelly voice murmured in her ear. She blinked her eyes open blearily, briefly noticing the face of the one who carried her.

"Palevan… my fault…" she whimpered, clutching to Garrus' shoulders limply. As he passed through the ship, she was glad to see that it was nearly empty and the lights dimmed. Shepard hoped no one saw the mighty commander, savior of the citadel wrapped in Garrus' arms like a sleepy, pathetic child. Thankfully the turian carried her to the captain's quarters without incident and she was gladly stripped to her vest and underpants by Garrus' careful hands and tucked into bed. It may have been a hard military issue mattress but right now it was like lying on a giant soft white hanar. A small smirk flickered across her face at the memory of calling a hanar diplomat a 'big stupid jellyfish'. The insult was lost on the pink gelatinous creature, but damn it had felt good. Sitting down on the bed next to her, Garrus sighed heavily. His mandibles twitched as he watched the commander settle down into the bed and yawn.

"I was looking everywhere for you… No one knew where you were," he murmured, sadness colouring his voice. Normally the commander wasn't one to burry her head in the sand. She shrugged, pushing messy hair out of her face. She hadn't showered in days, not since she had last woken up in bed.

"Was thinking about pirates," she slurred, burring her face in the pillow.

"Right… Shepard, please can you just … I don't want to see you crack, we need you," Garrus pleaded slightly, putting his hand on her shoulder. Suddenly Shepard bolted upright, her green eyes boring in to him.

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped, pushing his hand off of her, "And stop fucking calling me Shepard, I'm your mate! It's _Jamie_ for fuck's sake. No one thinks about what I need! It's all about galaxy this, reaper that, help me Shepard! Well I'm fucking sorry if I seem a little bit tired of helping every other fucker right now, none of this would have happened if everyone had just freaking listened to me on day one!" when she finally stopped shouting, Jamie slumped back against the headboard, her dark ringed eyes sunken and gazing up at Garrus almost desperately. The turian lowered his head, mandibles twitching rapidly in anxiety. He'd heard the commander – Jamie – shout like that before, but never at him. Now he understood why her rage could move planets.

"I'm sorry… Jamie," he whispered, pressing his mouth to her forehead, brushing her lank hair from her face.

"Sleep. Let go… I'll look after things 'til you wake up okay? No one needs Commander Shepard right now," he said, already grabbing a data-pad before settling down beside her, "But Jamie needs me so I'll stay. I'm sure the calibrations will look after themselves for a bit."

"Damn you and your calibrations," Jamie mumbled, already feeling the tendrils of true, dark sleep pulling her down.

_Everyone says you just gotta let it go…_


End file.
